


It Takes a Village (Why Idiots Shouldn’t Raise Children Alone)

by RaineyDay



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, This is basically a parent trap au, but my ace ass couldn’t do it, i tried to make the first chapter a smut, ill fix it later, melding the book style and my own kind of irreverence, the footnotes are fucked
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19455937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaineyDay/pseuds/RaineyDay
Summary: Many would think the antichrist would have been the first new kind of creation to come into being since the Beginning (not counting various species humans selectively bred into existence). They would be wrong.A few centuries before an apocalypse may or may not be fated to happen, something new came into the universe.





	1. Chapter 1

In a tiny back room of a tavern, two supernatural beings were busy doing what they do best [[1](%E2%80%9C#note1%E2%80%9D)] getting drunk. The thing about getting drunk, however, is that it tends to impair one’s senses. That is, of course, rather the point. But people- or beings- with impaired senses have a tendency to make decisions they may not have completely thought out.

This is why, were you to be a fly on the wall in that tavern room, you would likely not be surprised to see two supernatural beings locked into an embrace. [[2](%E2%80%9C#note2%E2%80%9D)]

Although, had you been one of the two in question, you would be very surprised indeed. But you are not, for you are my dear reader, and the two in question are two idiots named Crowley and Aziraphale respectively.

Yes, surprise would be the name for the emotion darting about between their collective seen brain cells, though it is not the only one. Amongst the other emotions being experienced in that moment, there exists: fear, confusion, delight, and one more that shan’t be named for the privacy of the two in question. [[3](%E2%80%9C#note3%E2%80%9D)]

Hands were running up and down sides, and mouths being pressed together until a decision was made to take that final step further. Neither hesitated. To hesitate for even a moment would cause reality to settle back in and for poor decisions to become awkward memories. [[4](%E2%80%9C#note4%E2%80%9D)]

The bed- for lack of a better word, as beds as they would come to be known [[5](%E2%80%9C#note5%E2%80%9D)]had yet to become commonplace- was about to experience a first in its existence. Not the sex, this bed had borne witness to that many times before- but instead something that had not happened in a long time- the creation of a new kind of being.

Not that the two currently on the bed had any idea that was possible, of course, or, drunk or not they would have rethought this encounter.

Therefore, all those who are bigger fans of drama and children than sense must be grateful for ignorance, as they would miss quite an experience otherwise. But I digress. Back to the sex.

Crowley didn’t strictly need to breathe. It was a habit he’d cultivated throughout the years, one borne of too many observant humans noticing his lack of it. But he still was panting for air at the moment. Aziraphale’s hands seemed to be everywhere, and that was fine by him. The angel could feel free to smother him at this moment and Crowley wouldn’t care, so long as he kept touching him like that while he did it.

“Zira,” was all he could manage of the name, and he briefly wondered why he didn’t simply use an endearment, something shorter, call his angel what he was, before recalling that, while in daily, platonic life, the pet name could be dismissed as a factual acknowledgment. Moaning it in pleasure while they fucked, however, might be pushing the thin veneer of acceptability a bit too far.

“Yes, my dear?” Came the response, and bless it, how could the angel be so composed while doing this? The only indicator that anything more exciting than a light meal was happening was the flush to his cheeks and his mussed hair.

“C’mere.” When Aziraphale acquiesced, tilting his head up, Crowley kissed him deeply, and there, there was the dazedness he was looking for. Crowley tried to take the moment to get back some control of the situation, but he hadn’t quite realized how dizzy with pleasure the kiss would make him, and all he managed was to drag his fingers down Aziraphale’s back, sending a gratifying shudder through the angel.

He recovered quickly though, positioning himself above the demon, once more with no hesitation. They were so close. If he paused to think too long now, he wasn’t sure he could bear to drag himself away.

And the rest- well, that’s something we’ll leave to them.

-

When Aziraphale woke, about an hour after their encounter, Crowley was still sleeping. That made sense. Crowley was always more fond of that particular activity.

Aziraphale found himself staring at the demon, who looked- peaceful. Happy, even. He was about to lean down to press a kiss to his temple, when that moment of hesitation finally occurred and he realized what he was doing and precisely why doing that was a bad idea.

He quickly sobered up, hesitating before reaching toward Crowley to rouse him. Just before his hand made contact, he paused again and drew back. He was not ready to talk about this. He was especially not ready to talk about this while the other conversation participant was still drunk, and, judging by how reason had gone out the window only hours before, likely not prepared to be rational here.

And so, Aziraphale gathered his things, dressed [[6](%E2%80%9C#note6%E2%80%9D)]and left the room quietly, without even lighting a candle for fear of waking Crowley.

As such, he missed the moment, ten minutes later, when Crowley was woken by the sound of screaming from the back corner of the room.

-

Jerking upright, Crowley already felt more sober than he’d been when he fell asleep.

“Angel?” He murmured for a moment before realizing that Aziraphale’s presence was already gone. Of course.

But there was no time to be thinking about that because something was sobbing close by. He stumbled off the bed, miracling a candle alight and into his hand before stepping towards the sound.

He wasn’t entirely certain what he was expecting- this didn’t seem normal for any variation of the term he’d ever experienced- but it certainly wasn’t to find a small child- an infant really- squirming in place on a small pile of cloth.

He set the candle down and reached for the child, shushing immediately.

“Hey there, little one. How’d you get in here?” He rocked awkwardly back and forth on the balls of his feet. He’d seen this done before, but he’d not really had occasion to hold a child this young until this moment.

Once the child was lulled, Crowley realized that it felt strangely familiar somehow. It was definitely giving off some kind of aura, he just couldn’t figure out what. It almost felt like- no, that was impossible.

He carried the child out of the room and toward the tavern proper, and, just as planned, encountered the owner along the way.

“Are you headed out already Mr. Crowley?” The owner began. “With the child? It’s rather late, you know.”

“Yeah, about that. Did you see who brought them in here?” Crowley asked.

“You did, sir. You came in with the child, met your friend, and then you rented the room.”

And with that little impossibility, the truth he’d denied before slotted into place. The child did indeed feel familiar. Impossibly so. Because they were rather an impossible thing to exist. Divine and demonic energies by nature could not interact. Not in one being. And yet, the aura surrounding the child was exactly that- half and half.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1Technically the thing they did best was to pine, but this was a close second.  [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return1%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 2Or you might, supposing you knew nothing about these two beings and nothing about alcohol in general.  [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return2%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 3Actually it’ll bother me if I don’t. It’s love. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return3%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 4This would be an awkward but beloved memory for a long time anyway, so they might as well make the best of it. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return4%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 5I.e. comfortable ones [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return5%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 6The human way. If asked, because he liked these clothes and miracling them on would make them feel somehow inauthentic. In actuality to spend just a bit more time in this moment. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return6%E2%80%9D) ]


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley wasn’t so out of it that he forgot to deflect suspicion off of himself by informing the tavern owner that he would not remember this conversation, but it was a near thing.

His mind was roiling in confusion. This wasn’t possible. It had never been possible. 1.But, possible or not, it was the situation he found himself in. The only question was, what was he going to do?

> 1\. Well first of all, through God, all things are possible, so jot that down.

He brought the child back into the rented room. Whatever he did, he’d need privacy.

The thing about it was that he couldn’t imagine anyone reacting well to this. It was already shattering the foundations of what Crowley thought the universe was like, and he had always been more willing to question how things worked than most celestial beings, so he could only imagine what it would do to the others.

Heaven had already proven itself willing to destroy abominable things in the Flood, and that period involved way less universe altering of a type of being. And Hell wasn’t exactly known for its mercy.

But that all assumed that he wanted them to take mercy on the child. Which he wasn't sure of yet, of course! 2.

> 2\. This is a lie. He was sure the moment he figured it out, it was just subconscious.

But universe altering revelations tended to, well, alter things, and he was happy with things as they were. Revealing the child would change the life he’s currently living. And that just would not slide.

Which meant he couldn’t tell Hell. That still left the question of what to do with the child.

They whined up at him, and he really looked at them from the first time. The child was gazing up at him, so trusting, with wide blue eyes. Staring back, he recalled the first time he’d seen those eyes, so many years ago, filled with confusion, and yet kindness and politeness for the automatic enemy.

Aziraphale’s eyes were beautiful and evocative, never able to hide the angel’s emotions. At least, not to Crowley. And now, this child had them as well.

And that was the third time Crowley fell.

-

Aziraphale got back to the bookshop a flustered mess. That- was certainly something. He- he needed to-

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I’m afraid we’re closed, sir!” He called out.

“Delivery!” Responded a voice he couldn’t have described if he wanted to, for he forgot what it sounded like moments after hearing it.

Aziraphale made his way to the door and opened it. A basket was placed into his arms and, with a cheery smile, the deliverer stepped away. Before Aziraphale could figure out what exactly he was being delivered.

He stepped forward to follow and get answers, but a small snuffling noise came from the basket as he did so.

Flipping open the lid, he saw the face of a child with a clump of red hair. Aziraphale immediately stepped outside to find whoever handed him this and explain that there must have been some kind of major mistake, but when he gets there, the person is nowhere to be seen.

He tries to remember what they looked like so he might be able to find them, but discovers he can’t recall at all. He remembers what they said and that they smiled but no features appear in his mind.

Well. That is the sign of a non-Earthly interaction. Whoever that was, they weren’t human. Or at least they were sent by someone nonhuman.

The child begins to cry, so Aziraphale steps back into the shop and pulls the child out of the basket.

He knows that his attempts at comfort are awkward, but he’s doing his best. It’s not like he’s had the opportunity to hold a child this young before.

Eventually the child ceases their cries and Aziraphale pulls them forward, seeing their eyes for the first time.

Oh. This is- this must be the result of his activities earlier this evening. It shouldn’t be possible. Even if it were, it’s a bit of a surprise that the same activity to create new humans could do- this.

But staring down at the slitted snake eyes peering up at him, there is no denying the truth.

This is Crowley’s child and why would it be delivered to him at this particular moment if it wasn’t also his?

Looking into those eyes, he remembers the last time he’d seen them, hours before, softened to a degree he’d never seen before, and he had almost wanted to call the emotion in them love.

Now, here he was, seeing those same eyes, still softened, though this time in that kind of absolute trust only babies were capable of, love due to the simple fact that they were being held.

This time, he didn’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the snake eyed baby’s temple.

-

So he made his decision was made to care for the child. But there was still the question of what to say to Aziraphale. He clearly hadn’t noticed the child before he left, or he would have said something.

And the fact that he had left still set Crowley’s heart stinging. It wasn’t really that he had thought this would be the end of his pining, that they would actually be something more after this night. To be honest, he hadn’t been thinking at all when he leaned over and pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s earlier that evening.

But clearly Aziraphale hadn’t meant it in the same way he had. He had left. Without saying anything.

It wasn’t anything more than Crowley had expected anyway.

The problem with telling Aziraphale- well actually there were two problems and Crowley couldn’t decide which was more pressing. There was certainly the fact that this could upset Aziraphale. He didn’t much like change in his usual patterns, and to find that he was suddenly a parent would definitely disrupt them. He might never talk to Crowley again. Or worse, talk only for the sake of the child, while quietly keeping his distance from Crowley’s more tender impulses.

And then, there was the question of the child’s safety. Aziraphale might feel obligated to tell Heaven about the child, and Crowley had already decided he couldn’t have that.

It felt wrong to lie to Aziraphale. He had always tried not to do that, especially since they’d become actual friends of a sort.

But he couldn’t lose Aziraphale. And he couldn’t let the child be destroyed. Those were his priorities now, and he’d do what was necessary to meet them.

-

Having miracled a crib for the infant, Aziraphale almost sat down to write a missive asking Crowley to come see him when he awoke. But he couldn’t. Crowley was, for all his better impulses, bound to Hell. And this child clearly has something of a demonic nature about them, even if it was only half.

Aziraphale did trust Crowley, really, with his life. But could he trust him with the child’s life? Crowley hadn’t grown to lo- care for the child the way he’d learned to care about Aziraphale. And he didn’t know how to make him do so quickly enough to ensure the child’s safety.

If Hell found out about the child… really he didn’t even particularly want Heaven to find out. They would not respond well to this. To any part of it.

Aziraphale’s heart seized at the thought of one of those groups getting their hands on the baby. And so, he resolved not to let on to Crowley. For the greater good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m pulling in the Raphael headcanon, bc honestly someone made a suggestion, that you will see in this chapter, and that suggestion is so very much my thing that I couldn’t bear not to.
> 
> Also, until the kiddos announce their genders, they will be using the gender neutral ‘they’ because celestial beings don’t really have a sex unless they try, according to the canon, so they don’t either.

The child would need a name. Aziraphale could hardly keep calling them ‘child’ and nothing else. The problem was that human names at this time were so gendered! And he could hardly ask the child what gender they’d prefer. At this point they likely wouldn’t even understand the word ‘gender’ let alone the concepts behind it. 1.

> 1\. Most celestial beings didn't have a sex unless they tried. Gender, maybe, but the associated physical features was viewed as unnecessary as a constant.

So he’d have to make a decision now and let the child decide later on.

He supposed it made sense for the child to be presented as a male. Given gender norms at this point were so skewed against women, he might as well give the child the better start usually offered to males. If the child decided later on that they really definitely were a woman, well, all the humans who would know about them previously going by a male presentation would be dead in a generation anyway.

Oh, that is, assuming the child would have a comparable life span to himself… no, he couldn’t think that way. Angels and demons had similar life expectancies, so it was only logical that the child would as well. Anything else was too horrible to contemplate. Raising a child only to lose them… no, it didn’t bear thinking about.

There were so many names though. Should he choose a British name, perhaps? It was where he currently resided, after all. Though, an older name, Hebrew or Latin might be more fitting, closer to the child’s actual heritage, though, of course, no human language properly resembled the speech of celestial beings.

Humans were rather fond of naming their children after people they admired or cared for. Or assigning meanings to the names, as if to imbue the child with those qualities.

He supposed that made a sort of sense. In fact, he thought he had a book with those meanings somewhere… likely in his small pile of books he’d sell if necessary. It wasn’t as though he had anticipated needing it.

He pulled it out and opened it. The first page he happened to open on listed a number of Biblical names, and Aziraphale chuckled. Oddly fitting, that.

He ran his finger down the page. Rachel was too feminine, and anyway, it meant sheep and he didn’t think Crowley would like the implication that his child was a blind follower. Ramiah was a lovely name but a bit old-fashioned nowadays. 2. And again Crowley wouldn’t like the meaning.

> 2\. Note that it is Aziraphale saying this is old-fashioned, which means it is actually basically historic at this point.  
> 

Though honestly, why he was considering Crowley’s opinion on this, he couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t as though he was involved in this process.

His finger stopped at the bottom of the page, beside the name Raphael. He liked that one. It had been the name of an Angel, though no one he knew had heard from him in a long time. Perhaps not since the War. He thought Crowley might disapprove, being a demon, but well, he didn’t have a say in this, did he? Besides, Raphael was a healer, and, thinking of Crowley’s reaction to plagues and suffering over the years, maybe that was one value they could agree on.

Peering at the child, Aziraphale thought about how gentle Crowley could be with the hurting. He tried to hide it, of course, but he didn’t much like seeing innocents suffer. It was a trait he’d most hope the child would inherit, out of any traits they could get from their other parent. And sure, giving the child a name wouldn’t actually mean they’d get the trait associated with that name, but well… it couldn’t hurt.

Aziraphale nodded to himself, the decision made. Though, maybe the spelling could be changed a bit. It did feel odd to give them the exact same name as the Angel, honestly. Perhaps the ‘ph’ could be an ‘f’? That was a very modern spelling, but the child would be growing up in this modern age, so he might as well, he supposed.

Yes. Yes, that would work very well.

-

The kid needed a name, Crowley realized. There was one that entered his mind immediately, though he tried to deflect, tried to think of another.

But none seemed to fit the child so well as that one. The little one squirming and kicking in their bassinet was a fighter. And yet, judging by their expression whenever something new came near enough to be in their line of sight, curious too.

All Crowley could think about was the story of Jacob. He’d never actually met the man behind the myth, but he’d heard about him. He’d fought with God, or at least, an Angel, depending on who you asked. He’d quarreled with the divine. And he’d won. At least, he’d won respect.

And anyway, it was a popular name. Plenty of people were naming their kids that. It was common, easy, 3.and modern despite its long history. Certainly didn’t have to mean anything, and, anyway, didn’t humans always say a child would look like their name? This kid looked like a Jacob if he’d ever seen one.

> 3\. Justifiable.

Yeah. Yeah, that made sense.

-

Years upon years later, one Rafael Fell and Jacob Crowley would meet, though it’s not a guarantee they would both be using those names at the time. But that’s a story for another time.

Until then, we’d best get back to our favorite idiots.

-

In a bookshop in London, a small child woke, having only just been christened, if unofficially, with their new name. Their father is just about to realize the trouble having an infant with snake eyes is going to cause him, but until that realization sets in, he is content to gaze at his newly ‘born’ child in wonder.

He’s never much understood the human’s awe of children. They’re nice enough, sure, but rather messy and prone to causing trouble. But he has to admit that this one is rather sweet looking and there is something to the idea that they are his to protect that makes him feel… something. It doesn’t seem to be a bad something though. This might just be alright.

-

In a tavern just outside London, a demon watches a child kick their legs as best they can. They’re still much too small to accomplish much, though more than a human their age could. This one is going to be interesting, he thinks. He’s rather excited for it.

**Author's Note:**

> 1Technically the thing they did best was to pine, but this was a close second.  [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return1%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 2Or you might, supposing you knew nothing about these two beings and nothing about alcohol in general.  [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return2%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 3Actually it’ll bother me if I don’t. It’s love. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return3%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 4This would be an awkward but beloved memory for a long time anyway, so they might as well make the best of it. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return4%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 5I.e. comfortable ones [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return5%E2%80%9D) ]  
> 6The human way. If asked, because he liked these clothes and miracling them on would make them feel somehow inauthentic. In actuality to spend just a bit more time in this moment. [ [return to text](%E2%80%9C#return6%E2%80%9D) ]


End file.
